


Woojin Updates

by indifferentyoongi



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Angst, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Text Messages, a cast of six-year old tee-ball players are featured, all members are featured but this is leohyuk centric with side leobin bbfs, minyul is also here, tee-ball coach!taekwoon, this is all fluff please enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indifferentyoongi/pseuds/indifferentyoongi
Summary: “Ba-DUM! Ba-Da! Ba ba ba-DING!”Taekwoon divided his attention equally between genuinely enjoying coaching his tee-ball team and genuinely wanting to strangle the guy who didn’t even watch the boys play; he sat with his head in his DS, mumbling, groaning, and more often than not, yelling what sounded to Taekwoon like random nonsense. In fact, Taekwoon wasn’t even sure if bleacher bother was someone’s uncle or brother or god forbid father--he did look too young for that, but ever since he found out a cousin he for the past five years thought was twelve was actually eighteen, he resigned himself to not knowing much of anything that didn’t involve sports or music--or if he showed up every Sunday specifically to drive Taekwoon mad. Maybe one of the opposing teams sent him over as a spy. An irritating, obnoxious, stupid, loud, disrespectful spy.--Or, Taekwoon is a fifth-year senior coaching a tee-ball team in his spare time, and Sanghyuk sits in the bleachers loudly playing video games.





	Woojin Updates

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory "this is my first vixx fic please treat me kindly." :"") I have recently fallen in love with Han Sanghyuk and if I'm honest with myself also Jung Taekwoon. One night, the idea of Taekwoon as a tee-ball coach entered my brain and here we are. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Ba-DUM! Ba-Da! Ba ba ba-DING!”

Taekwoon closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, fully, until the only sound in his ears was an alarm begging him to exhale. So he did that, too, though more slowly than his body wanted. When he finished counting to ten and his lungs were expelled, he opened his eyes. 

He focused not on the incessant sounds from the small set of bleachers behind home plate but instead on the six year-olds running enthusiastically around the bases. Jungwoo’s shoelaces were untied, Minhyuk refused to leave the side of his best friend Daehyun even though Taekwoon knew Minhyuk could run twice as fast, and Seungmin screamed without breath as if his energy filled from the screech alone. Although the Sunday scene of innocent eyes and rice leftover from lunch stuck to the corner of mouths and the smell of grass mixed with dirt mixed with the smell that his decade-year old glove left on his hand was usually enough to release Taekwoon from the worry of his work and his future, ever since bleacher bother started showing up to practices, Taekwoon divided his attention equally between genuinely enjoying coaching his tee-ball team and genuinely wanting to strangle the guy who didn’t even watch the boys play; he sat with his head in his DS, mumbling, groaning, and more often than not, yelling what sounded to Taekwoon like random nonsense. In fact, Taekwoon wasn’t even sure if bleacher bother was someone’s uncle or brother or god forbid father--he did look too young for that, but ever since he found out a cousin he for the past five years thought was twelve was actually eighteen, he resigned himself to not knowing much of anything that didn’t involve sports or music--or if he showed up every Sunday specifically to drive Taekwoon mad. Maybe one of the opposing teams sent him over as a spy. An irritating, obnoxious, stupid, loud, disrespectful spy. 

“Coach? Coach? COACH?”

Taekwoon tore his eyes away from bleacher bother--whose jumper was bright yellow today, an eye sore in addition to being an ear sore--to see Seungmin tugging at the bottom of his tshirt. 

“We’re done warming up,” he said proudly. 

“Good job, Seungminnie.” Alright,” he addressed the rest of the team huddled behind home plate. All ten of his players straightened up and melted the laughter from their faces. Taekwoon was at once impressed with their discipline and worried that he was doing that thing that Hongbin always accused him of, the notorious gaze of doom. Usually that was reserved for his prying friends and for bleacher bother; though, he probably didn’t even know it. A waste of a gaze of doom, technically. Taekwoon smiled consciously, though the admiration and care he had for kids, and for his team especially, was genuine and natural.

“We’ll start with your favorite today, does that sound good?”

The team erupted in loud affirmation, and Taekwoon laughed behind his hand. “Grab your bats.” 

***

Practice went about as smoothly as it usually did: two scrapes, one spat, a visit from the stray dog who rolled around in the outfield, distracting the team, Taekwoon most of all. 

His cheeks always hurt by the time the parents arrives to pick up their kids. When he’s not laughing, he’s smiling. When he’s not smiling, he’s biting back a laugh. Taekwoon was meticulous in his personal and professional life, but he never worried about his team winning or even how much the kids improved; he just liked seeing them having fun, unknowing to the worries of life. 

“How’s Jungwoo doing?” Jungwoo’s mother asked with a curt smile. 

_ You’d know if you stayed _ Taekwoon thought. He said instead, “His fielding improves with every practice. I taught him some drills he can do at home-“

“Oh, we don’t usually have time to play catch with him,” she confessed. 

Taekwoon looked down at Jungwoo snacking happily on the potato chips he bought in bulk for the kids after practice. He ruffled the kids hair affectionately to which Jungwoo scrunched his nose. Taekwoon grinned knowing that he often reacted the same when anyone tried to touch him, affectionate or not. 

“No worries, he can do the drills on his own. At this age, it’s mostly muscle memory. When they get older it’s more about reaction times and adapting.” 

“Oh, okay. Well, thank you, Taekwoon. We’ll see you next Sunday.” She turned to her son. “Say goodbye, Jungwoo.” 

“Bye bye, Coach!” 

Jungwoo wrapped his arms around Taekwoon’s legs for just a moment before running off toward his family’s car. Taekwoon heard the faint sound of Jungwoo’s mother yelling after him to slow down, to not eat and run, to greet the other parents respectfully. 

“Coach?” A shy voice called from his right.

“Hi, Woojin.” Han Woojin was maybe the most promising member of the team, even at his young age. He was quiet determination on the field, and sometimes Taekwoon wondered if the boy had very much fun while he played. “What’s up?” 

“We won’t be able to make it next Sunday for practice.”

“We?”

Behind Woojin approached a flash of bright yellow and a soft hum of ba-ba-ba-ba-ba’s. Bleacher bother, as it turned out, didn’t limit his sound effects to gaming. He was ‘walking bother’ now, too. Walking...worrisome? whammy? weirdo? He’d work on it. 

“Hi,” bleacher bother said with a bow and a grin. Taekwoon had only ever seen the top of his head, he realized. Somehow the guy’s face looked exactly like a face that’d produce those obnoxious sounds. “I’m Sanghyuk, Woojin’s brother.” 

Taekwoon bowed in return. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Our family’s taking an unexpected trip to Seoul next weekend, so Woojin will have to miss practice.” 

“I asked if I could stay at home with a babysitter instead, but they wouldn’t let me,” Woojin said with a pout so sincere Taekwoon’s chest ached. 

“I know, buddy,” bleacher bother—Sanghyuk— rubbed his brother’s back, “I’m sorry there was no other option.” 

Woojin gave a resigned nod and stared at the dirt beneath his feet. 

“Do you know what he’ll miss? It might be easier on him if I can explain what happened at practice and what he can expect when he gets back.” 

“Um.” Truthfully, Taekwoon didn’t plan his practices until the day-of, but he didn’t know how to admit that without making himself sound like a terrible coach. 

“Why don’t I give you my number and you can text me once you figure it out?” Sanghyuk smiled easily as if this was a natural thing to do, to ask for a near-stranger’s number. 

Taekwoon’s refusal sat on the edge of his tongue when Woojin excitedly proclaimed, “We could send coach a picture of me practicing in the yard!” 

Taekwoon wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Woojin talk so loud. 

Sanghyuk squeezed his brother’s shoulder affectionately. Suddenly Taekwoon didn’t have it in him to say no. 

“Um, sure.” 

He held out his phone for the bleacher bother turned walking weirdo now babyfaced brother and typed his own number into a Galaxy phone with a small crack in the top right corner. 

“So I’ll see you in two week, Han Woojin?”

Woojin gave a two finger salute. “See you then, Coach.” 

Sanghyuk laughed more deeply than Taekwoon would have imagined and led his brother toward the only car left in the parking lot. 

***

It was Friday before Taekwoon remembered he was to send Woojin the practice schedule. He felt a pang of guilt when his phone vibrated against his leg with a text from Han Sanghyuk. It’d been a surprisingly long week for a part-time semester. Taekwoon had just a few credits left before qualifying for graduation, which gave him the extra time to coach the tee-ball team, but it was of course this week when all three of his classes had major assignments due.

One paper, two exams, and a migraine letter, Taekwoon sat sleepily with a glass of wine. For a fraction of a second his drained mind couldn’t discern who Han Sanghyuk even was, but the picture of Woojin in mid-swing with near-perfect form Taekwoon hadn’t ever taught him quickly reminded him that the loud and goofy-grinned bleacher bother was somehow the brother to a serious and focused Woojin. 

Taekwoon smiled down at his phone, his wine glass paused on the way to his lips. Woojin reminded Taekwoon of himself, in a way, as a kid who dedicated his days to soccer and a teenager who sang songs more than he spoke words. He couldn’t coo at Han Woojin for too long before his smile turned to a scowl. A second picture appeared, shoving the first upward. Taekwoon could see a sliver of Woojin batting once more in the background, but in the scowl-inducing foreground was bleacher bother’s scrunched grin framed by a green hoody. 

Because Taekwoon couldn’t bear his disdain to go unobserved, he sat his wine glass down on the coffee table and typed with stiff fingers. 

**To Han Sanghyuk:**   
woojin updates only please

He didn’t have time to navigate to twitter before the typing bubble appeared. He stared. He waited. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
that was a woonjin update

Taekwoon chose to roll his eyes instead of sending the emoji of the same likeness. He returned his attention back to his drama and took a gulp of his ungulpable drink in an attempt to drown out the ba-DA ba-DA ba-DA suddenly playing in the back of his mind. Taekwoon considered gnawing off his own ears—he couldn’t remember the stupid sound effects if he never heard them in the first place—but he figured it’d be difficult to finish his music degree without him. 

He was past the midterms now. Just a few more months and one more set of exams to go, and he’d have to figure out what the hell he was going to do with his life. Taekwoon felt the familiar stone of anxiety settle in his gut, prickling reverberation in his chest. He felt betrayed by his own body; wasn’t tonight meant to be stress relieving, not inducing? 

And of course, his phone pinged. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
speaking of woojin and updates 

Taekwoon sat up from his slouched position on the couch. Right. Practice schedule. 

**To Han Sanghyuk:**   
shit, i’m sorry. it was a busy week for me, but make sure woojin knows im sorry. i can get it to you in an hour or so. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
hey, don’t worry. woojin’s been busy playing with his cousins. and it’s late, text it to me tomorrow? 

Taekwoon paused on his way to the bookshelf where he kept his coaching binder. He let out a breath, and smiled, despite himself. 

**To Han Sanghyuk:**   
okay. ill have it to your first thing in the morning

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
im not a morning person, coach 

**To Han Sanghyuk:**   
don’t call me coach, and you don’t have to read it in the morning just know ill send it as soon as i get up 

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
what should i call you then? 

For a brief moment, Taekwoon wondered if Sanghyuk had a nickname for him. But then again, he wasn’t annoying enough for Sanghyuk to imagine him as anything other than “Coach.” 

**To Han Sanghyuk:**   
why wouldn’t you just call me taekwoon?

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
woojin calls you coach. how in the world would i know what your friends call you.

**To Han Sanghyuk:**   
we’re not friends 

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
grumpy geezer it is 

**To Han Sanghyuk:**   
yah, im not that much older than you

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
good night grumpy geezer make sure to get lots of rest for your aching bones 

Taekwoon downed the rest of his wine and threw his phone across the room.

***

Taekwoon sent the practice schedule to Woojin (Sanghyuk was really just an older, more literate mediator between the two of them, he decided) in the morning on Saturday and settled into his weekend routine: work on songs—write lyrics, compose melodies, once far enough along, sing and record. Admittedly, he added “survive hangover” to his agenda today, but he only lost an hour or two to hydrating and eating greasy food. 

Despite knowing this routine in all its specificity, and how important working on music was to Taekwoon outside of classes, Hongbin, Taekwoon’s oldest and least annoying friend, called him in the afternoon. 

Taakwoon declined the call.

His phone rang again.

Taakwoon banged his hands on the keyboard, sending a cacophony around the second bedroom in his apartment he used as a studio. 

“What?” he answered on the third ring. 

“Hey,” Hongbin greeted.

“Hey? Did you forget what day it is?”

“Did you forget that not everyone lives to meet your demands and that your friends might want to talk to you outside of your scheduled friendship hours?”

Taekwoon let his head fall back against his headrest and tore his eyes away from his computer.

“I’m sorry, I’m just—“ 

“You’re anxious. I know. We’re in the final stretch.”

Well, Taekwoon was. Hongbin graduated in the four years most students did, the jerk. And he had a job, the asshole. 

“I shouldn’t use that as an excuse, though.” 

“No, you shouldn’t, but I love you, so I forgive you.”

“Well I don’t forgive how gross you are.” He heard Hongbin’s deep chuckle, and swallowed the longing for his best friend. “What were you calling for anyway?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m in town tonight.” 

Taekwoon snapped his head forward “What?”

“I have a work meeting like 30 minutes from campus.” 

Hongbin, despite being so beautiful he could have sailed through college with an easy degree and found a job at a modeling agency after graduation, worked to create accessible gaming platforms with one of the most popular software developers in the country. “Let’s get drinks tonight.”

Though Taekwoon knew he probably shouldn’t drink again given his horrific hangover this morning, he immediately agreed. 

“My hotel has a fancy restaurant attached to it, and the bar is probably amazing. I could pick you up after the meeting. You can just sleep in my room.” 

“Will you bring me back here early on Sunday?”

“Yes, Taekwoon, I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your Sunday morning routine. I know you eat breakfast, then jack off, then—“

“I’M HANGING UP NOW.”

Taekwoon thought he heard a “see you later” hidden inside of Hongbin’s boisterous laugh before he ended the call.

***

“You look nice,” Taekwoon told Hongbin as he climbed into his car later that evening. His friend was dressed more formally than Taekwoon ever remembered seeing him in the decade they’d known each other.

“It was an important meeting.” Hongbin smiled widely, which Taekwoon returned. It’d been five months since either of them had time to meet up, and a feeling of familiarity washed over both of them, a comfort like driving a back road or eating your mother’s favorite dish. 

“And did it go well?” 

Hongbin let out a heavy exhale. “I think so.”

“That’s it? I don’t get any more details?”

“If I tell you, I’ll jinx it,” Hongbin explained. 

Taekwoon shrugged in acceptance and listened intently as Hongbin spent the half hour car ride telling him instead of the new game he was working on. It utilized voice over to describe world building in a way it’d never been done before. 

By the time they arrived, a warmth spread across Taekwoon’s body. On his worst days, he felt nothing short of jealousy toward Hongbin. For knowing exactly what he wanted to do, for graduating with the rest of their friends, for getting the hell out of the college town that reminded Taekwoon of stress and worry and regret. Tonight, he was simply proud. 

As they stepped into the restaurant’s entrance, however, Taekwoon became rigid with doubt. 

He was woefully underdressed. 

He probably should have known sooner, when he saw Hongbin in the car; maybe the relief of seeing him overrode the clear imbalance, but now he felt the embarrassment full force. He wasn’t dressed inappropriately, exactly; he wore black skinny jeans and a loose fitting button down, but the men in this restaurant wore ties and the women wore heels. 

“You could have warned me,” he whispered to Hongbin as they made their way to a table by the bar.

“Thank you,” Hongbin said politely to the hostess, and then turned to Taekwoon. “Of what?”

“Me looking like a poor college kid that walked into this place by mistake.”

“Well half of that is right—ow!”

Taekwoon gave their waiter who approached the table inhumanly fast with two glasses of ice water in hand an innocent smile as Hongbin soothed his shin. 

“Do you have any questions about the menu?”

“What’s the drink special for t-ow!-night?” 

Taekwoon sent his best glare of doom to his best friend who had the gall to wink in return. 

The waiter—Minseok, his name tag read—looked wearily between them. “Uh, a peach twist on an old fashioned—“

“I’ll take that,” Taekwoon declared before Minseok could finish his rehearsed explanation of the drink’s features. 

Hongbin ordered a beer, as he always did, and they both chose the food special. If Taekwoon learned anything in his adult years it was that you should always order the special. It’s never as expensive as you would expect, and it always tastes twice as good as anything else on the regular menu. 

It was while they waited for their steaks that Taekwoon’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t want to interrupt Hongbin’s line of questioning, but he so rarely got messages on the weekends that his fingers itched in his lap. 

“Is Professor Choi just as ridiculous as always?”

“God, yes. He made me re-submit an entire paper just because I forgot to change the date from an earlier draft--which he’d seen, by the way--to the date the final was due. And I couldn’t just change it and hand it back. He made me do a full round of revisions. So stupid.”

Hongbin’s laugh filled the empty table between them. “You should have changed the date but misspelled your name. Submitted it as Jung Teokwang.”

Taekwoon choked on his second old fashioned just as Minseok approached with steaming food arranged in large dinner plates down one arm. The sight of his right arm completely empty, fully capable of holding one of those plates almost sent Taekwoon into another fit of giggles, so he gave his phone a quick peek to save himself from making the waiter uncomfortable. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:**   
i have a woojin update for you   
<video attachment>

Before Taekwoon could think otherwise, he clicked play on the thumbnail which showed Han Woojin crouched in the exact grounding position Taekwoon described in the practice schedule he’d sent him earlier that morning. 

He watched as someone off screen—one of Woojin’s parents, maybe? or one of the cousins Sanghyuk said Woojin was playing with?—threw a baseball hard at the grass in front of Taekwoon’s short stop. Woojin crouched down on one knee, his glove tucked snugly between his abdomen and the ground, keeping the ball in front of him. In the background, Taekwoon heard an unmistakable “ba ba ba BAAA” as Woojin showed his glove, the ball caught snugly against his palm, to the camera. “Waaa, Han Woojin, greatest baseball star in all of Korea,” Taekwoon heard Sanghyuk coo, and Woojin blushed before the video ended. 

Taekwoon tried his best to school his smile before looking up from his phone, but from the look on Hongbin’s face, he failed.

“Did you just watch a video in the middle of this restaurant?”

Oh. Or he was just stupid enough not to turn the volume down. 

“Um. Yes?” Taekwoon stuffed his mouth with a bite of burning hot risotto. 

“And what’s so important to turn the Taekwoonie who was embarrassed to be wearing jeans in this establishment to loudly listen to a YouTube video while the table next to him gave him dirty looks?”

The tips of Taekwoon’s ears burned as he bowed awkwardly to the group of women sitting at the table to his right.

Hongbin reached over and pulled at his arm.

“I was kidding, relax.” Hongbin smiled. “We have to hang out more often if you’re getting this bad at reading my tone already.”

Taekwoon sat up, and flicked his bangs out of his eyes. “Was I ever any good at that?” 

“Don’t change the subject. What’s the video?”

He could lie, but Taekwoon wasn’t adept at thinking on his feet, and the video was innocent enough; there was no point not to tell his friend. 

“One of my tee-ball players can’t come to practice tomorrow, so he just sent me a video of him practicing on his own instead.”

“Wow, he must be dedicated,” Hongbin noted around a bite of steak. “Wait, aren’t those kids like barely old enough to read? How is he texting you?”

“He’s six, and it was his brother who texted me.” 

Taekwoon once again shoved a bite of risotto in his mouth, hoping it’d prevent him from having to explain any further. 

As if this night only existed for him to be tortured, his phone vibrated again, this time while on the table in clear view of Hongbin, who read “Han Sanghyuk” on the notification and swiped Taekwoon’s phone before Taekwoon could throw down his fork and dive for it himself. 

“You should really change your passcode more often,” Taekwoon heard Hongbin chide as he hung his head just above the black tablecloth that protected him from digging the edge of the table into his forehead, willing this entire situation to be expelled from his brain. 

Hongbin giggled, causing Taekwoon to lift his head just enough to see what Hongbin was doing. 

“What?” he whined.

“Curious, are we?” 

“Just tell me what it said, you brat.” Taekwoon downed the rest of his cocktail, and called Minseok over for a third. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was reminded that coaching practice tomorrow with a hangover would be a terrible idea, but he ignored it. 

“‘Grumpy geezer, please acknowledge this video before Woojin’s head explodes.’ He calls you ‘grumpy geezer?’ Not that it isn’t fitting, I’m just more surprised you put up with it.”

“I don’t actually know him that well,” Taekwoon admitted. “We exchanged numbers so I could send Woojin the practice schedule.”

“He knows you well enough to make fun of you,” Hongbin said, and Taekwoon hummed into his steak, unsure of how to explain that Sanghyuk spoke to him even last week with a familiarity that was at once misplaced but also difficult to admonish. 

When he looked up to take another sip of his drink, he realized Hongbin was typing. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Taekwoon launched his long arms across the table, groping wildly for his phone.

Hongbin leaned dangerously far back in his chair to finish typing while Taekwoon watched in horror. 

“Just making sure he’s not misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding what?”

Hongbin handed him back his phone, and Taekwoon almost threw it at him when he saw the message Hongbin sent.

It was a picture his sister took of him last spring while he played with his nephew. Taekwoon’s head fell back in laughter, his bangs swept back from his eyes. The caption read “he’s not always grumpy.”

“You’re a menace, I hate you, and you’re paying for this dinner.” 

“I’m just looking out for you, I love you too, and I was planning on it anyway.”

“How is  _ this _ looking out for me?” Taekwoon shoved the phone back in his friend’s face. 

“Taekwoonie, have you ever wondered how many people think you’re cold or mean when really you’re just quiet with a resting bitch face?” 

He shook his head silently, prioritizing eating over having this conversation. 

“I don’t believe that. Regardless, now this Sanghyuk person knows you have a heart of gold. Eventually he’ll learn you’re less grumpy and more particular-and-easily-inconvenienced.” 

Taekwoon chewed and swallowed. “There is no ‘eventually,’ Hongbin. The kid is obnoxious, and I’ll delete his number once Woojin gets back to practice.”

“Come on, I’m sure he’s not that bad.”

Before Taekwoon could fully explain the extent of Sanghyuk’s bleacher gaming, his phone buzzed. 

Surprisingly, Sanghyuk responded with a picture of his own. He was sat next to Woojin, whose attention was firmly on a tablet in his lap, with his nose scrunched toward his little brother. Sanghyuk wore a yellow flannel—so often yellow, Taekwoon realized—and the caption read “im not always happy, bright, lovely, funny, amazing, wonderful, sweet, handsome.”

Taekwoon scoffed to no one in particular. He didn’t like that he’d inadvertently set this photo precedent. Or that Hongbin did, the traitor. 

He lifted his phone with an idea. Taekwoon snapped a quick picture of Hongbin with cheeks full of vegetables, eyes rolled back in the bliss of a perfect bite. He looked ridiculous. 

Taekwoon made the mistake of snickering while typing a caption, raising Hongbin’s suspicions, and no sooner had he hit send did Hongbin snatch his phone away from him once more. Sober, Taekwoon probably would have scolded Hongbin harshly enough for all of this to have ended twenty minutes ago, but his fourth drink dissolved his resolve. 

“Fuck you for sending a complete stranger that disgusting of a picture. Wait, is this him?”

Of course Hongbin would scroll up, of course he would. 

Taekwoon grunted in affirmation. 

“You didn’t tell me he’s cute.”

Taekwoon ducked behind his glass. “Is he?”

“Don’t act like you don’t have eyes.”

“Honestly, I’ve only talked to him in person once.”

Hongbin handed him back his phone, thankfully. “Isn’t the coach supposed to have a decent rapport with parents and siblings or whatever?” 

Taekwoon shrugged. “If they don’t have a question or concern for me, I don’t go out of my way to make small talk.”

_ Bzzzzzz.  _ Taekwoon looked down warily at his phone. 

“Looks like you’re making small talk now,” Hongbin noted with a suggestive tilt to his eyebrow. 

Taekwoon ignored that. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:** **  
** i didn’t know you were at dinner!!! i’m going to shut up. have a good evening, taekwoon. 

Taekwoon realized he never responded to the video that started this conversation, at least, not directly; he still pocketed his phone, figuring he could praise Woojin’s technique tomorrow and realizing that they were no longer talking under the guise of “Woojin updates” anyway. 

***

Taekwoon 1000% regretted drinking two nights in a row as the alcohol seemed to weigh down his brain and his body for the entirety of the following week. He was grateful that his professors treated the classes right after a round of exams kindly; he had little work, leaving more time to work on his resume. 

Hongbin hadn’t meant it negatively, at least Taekwoon didn’t think, but while they laid in bed well after 2am last week with too much alcohol on their breaths and too little light in the hotel room, Hongbin turned to him and asked the question Taekwoon spent every waking moment trying to ignore. 

“What are you going to do after graduation, Taekwoonie?” 

Hongbin’s voice was tired, simple tired curiosity, but Taekwoon felt his pulse, already racing from the dreaded alcohol, reach fatal speeds. 

“Honestly? I have no idea.” He turned over to face his friend. “I’m so fucking scared of failing again.”

“You didn’t fail before—“

“Let’s go to sleep, Hongbin. I’m tired.”

He listened as Hongbin sucked in a breath as if he was taking unspoken words back inside of his mind. 

“I love you. I believe in you,” whispered into the darkness was the last thing Taekwoon heard before he fell asleep. 

This happened often. Taekwoon pushed something uncomfortable to the tiniest recesses of his consciousness, piled what he knew and what he was familiar with on top of it until he almost forgot it was there at all. Until someone, usually an unsuspecting Hongbin or his father, brought it up, and then suddenly Taekwoon was forced to face his own avoidance. Inevitably, he had x-ray vision for a while, seeing through everything else; only what made him anxious felt tangible and present. It was good for him, he knew that, to be forced out of his own terrible coping mechanisms, but it did make the entire process incredibly exhausting. He swayed wildly between total avoidance and complete fixation. 

Fixating on finding a job and finally having a life plan wasn’t the worst way he’d spent his days, he decided. By the time the following Saturday ended, Taekwoon had a completed resume, confirmed references, and a template for a job letter. Now he just had to find openings. 

As Taekwoon drove up to the field on Sunday, he realized just how much he’d missed having this part time gig once he graduated. He didn’t need the money; he did it solely for the stress relief that working with kids—and sports—brought him. 

What he wouldn’t miss, and hadn’t missed last week, was the familiar BA BA BA BAAA from the stands as Taekwoon tried to round ten six year olds into following his instructions. 

He hadn’t spoken to Sanghyuk since the following weekend. It felt almost like Taekwoon couldn’t quite reconcile the bleacher bother with the kid who texted him videos of Woojin and replied playfully to his best friend’s invasive presence in their chat. His frustrations immediately returned along with a newer need to cut his eyes in Sanghyuk’s direction anytime he was certain the kids weren’t going to hurt themselves or each other. 

Today’s jumper was green, brighter than the color of the grass surrounding the old set of bleachers. Taekwoon vividly imagined swatting the stupid DS—the source of all the noise, really—directly onto the ground, and it was while he had what was most likely a manic smile of pleasure plastered onto his face that Sanghyuk decided to look up and over at him. 

His expression registered alarm for only a second before he smiled. His nose scrunched as his mouth widened, and judging by the sound of absolute horror he made once he glanced back down at his game, he’d just sacrificed a life. 

Taekwoon, surprising himself, felt kind of bad. The “Ba-BA. Take THAT” that sounded across the field a moment later seemed to harmonize with the harsh scream of Jung Jungwoo as Seungmin accidentally hit him in the arm with his bat. 

“Everyone back up, back up,” Taekwoon called as he ran over to Jungwoo. 

“I’m sorry, Jungwoo, I’m so sorry,” Seungmin cried softly behind him. 

“Where did it hit?” 

Jungwoo continued to cry as he held his right elbow. 

“Okay, I’m going to carry you to the dugout, okay? Just so I can take a closer look. You don’t want to lay on the uncomfortable dirt, do you?”

Jungwoo shook his head furiously, and Taekwoon smiled. The rest of the team, thank goodness, stood still and silent as Taekwoon got Jungwoo over to the dugout. 

“Remember last month, Jungwoo, when you weren’t watching where you were running and you hit the fence?”

Jungwoo nodded, his sobbing waning. 

“Does this hurt more than that?” His elbow was red, but it didn’t look to be swelling. From what Taekwoon saw, Seungmin was, though Taekwoon always urged his players not to, channeling his six-year old energy into flailing his bat back and forth. Powerful, the swing was not; enthusiastic, it certainly was. 

Jungwoo seemed to think about it for a moment. He braved a peek at his arm, and seeing that his bone was still firmly underneath his skin and that he wasn’t bleeding, decided it wasn’t worse. 

Taekwoon helped Jungwoo sit up and while he drank some water, sent a quick text to his mother to let her know her son was alright but to keep an eye on potential bruising and swelling. 

“Your mom should be here in the next five minutes or so, Jungwoo. Want to just hang out in here until then?”

Jungwoo pointed back out to the field. “Can I play, too?” 

“No, I don’t think that’d be a good idea, bud, there’s too high of a risk—“

Taekwoon’s words fell out of his mouth as he turned in the direction of Jungwoo’s finger to see his players gathered in a circle on the mound, one Han Sanghyuk sitting dead center. 

They were playing some kind of game that involved snapping, clapping, and tossing a ball between them. Taekwoon couldn’t discern the rules, but the team was occupied and laughing, that he could tell. Sanghyuk pointed enthusiastically to each person who had the ball and kept rhythm with the claps and snaps with loud “BA ba ba ba BA ba ba ba BA.” 

“Let’s go see.” 

Taekwoon took Jungwoo’s hand and walked out to the mound. Just as they arrived Woojin failed to complete the required number of claps and snaps before he caught the ball—at least, that’s what Taekwoon thought he just saw. 

Sanghyuk playfully slapped his hand on his brother’s leg and declared him the “loser lemon.” 

Woojin scrunched up his face not unlike after eating sour fruit. 

“Ah, Jungwoo,” Sanghyuk greeted when he noticed their arrival. “You’re better already? Coach must be a magical healer.” 

Sanghyuk turned his smile to Taekwoon. Surprising even himself, Taekwoon smiled back. 

Practice was essentially over and Taekwoon declared as much before passing out snacks and refilling water bottles. Jungwoo’s mother, luckily, did not blame Taekwoon or Seungmin for the accident and assured him she would keep ice on his elbow that evening. 

When everyone cleared off the field and were headed back to vans and bicycles and playgrounds, Taekwoon made his way over to the bleachers. He sat down next to Sanghyuk, seeing the field from his perspective for the first time. 

“For the record, I think you’re more of the magician to keep everyone occupied. Thank you for that, by the way. You didn’t have to.” 

“They looked worried.” Taekwoon could see Sanghyuk steal a glance at him. “You look worried. Jungwoo looked—“

“I get it. Well, you definitely calmed them down.” 

“Have you ever played catch-a-round, Coach?” Woojin asked from Sanghyuk’s other side. Why they hadn’t left yet, Taekwoon had no idea. 

He shook his head in answer. 

“I play it with my cousins a lot when we visit grandma. Maybe we could play it again after practice sometime?” 

The hope and childish glee in Woojin’s smile made Taekwoon’s chest hurt. The kid was so serious about baseball that he rarely saw him act like, well, a kid. Is this how Sanghyuk always got to see his brother?

“Yeah, Woojin, we can.” 

He fist pumped the air. 

And Sanghyuk laughed. 

And Taekwoon laughed. 

***

As the team approached their first game of the season, they didn’t have time to goof around after practice; Taekwoon more than once was yelled at by a parent for keeping his players an extra thirty minutes as fathers revved their engines and mothers checked their watches. 

It was the weekend after their first game (a win, to Taekwoon’s delight) that he was reminded of Woojin and Sanghyuk’s catch-a-round game. 

His sister somehow convinced him to help her chaperone a trip to a petting zoo not too far away from campus. Meaning, she got as far as to say Minyul and five of his friends were coming into town and he immediately and without complaint said yes he’d be there. 

But now he sat on the grass in the picnic area of the zoo surrounded by kids no longer entertained by goats and pigs. Before he could talk himself out of it, Taekwoon took out his phone and clicked on Sanghyuk’s contact. 

“Hi?” Sanghyuk answered, clearly suspicious of why his brother’s tee-ball coach would be calling him on a Saturday. 

“Hey.”

“Hey?”

Taekwoon held his face in his free hand. “How—how is your day going?”

“Um, good, I guess. Yours?”

“Kind of stressed.” Taekwoon laughed nervously into the phone before explaining. “That’s why I was calling, actually. I’m hanging out with my nephew—“

“The cutie from the picture?”

Right. The picture Hongbin sent of Taekwoon laughing. He felt his cheeks redden and hoped his sister was paying him no attention. 

“Uh, yeah. Anyway, I was wondering if you could explain the rules to that game to me. We’re taking a break for lunch before the next exhibit opens and they’re getting restless.”

Sanghyuk giggled for a reason unbeknownst to Taekwoon before agreeing. 

Taekwoon listened intently to the instructions which were far simpler than he had imagined. It started out with just two claps and two snaps. Whoever had the ball called out a number higher than two as they tossed the ball towards whoever they wanted. The receiver had to complete that many claps and snaps before they caught the ball or else they lost. Taekwoon would have to use balled up foil from his packed lunch instead of the baseball he saw his team play with weeks before, but he thought it could work.

“Make sense?”

“Yes, thank you. You keep saving my ass.”

“Aren’t you around a bunch of kids?”

Taekwoon slapped his hand over his mouth and peeked up to make sure his sister wasn’t glaring at him. Luckily, she was leading a sing-along and was none the wiser. 

“Now you’re getting me in trouble. I take it back.”

“Who knew I had all this power.”

Taekwoon, with far more sincerity than the sarcasm he intended, replied, “Try using it for good, please.”

There was silence for a beat so long Taekwoon almost checked to see if Sanghyuk had hung up on him. 

“I’ll do my best, Taekwoon,” he finally answered. 

Taekwoon said his final thanks and goodbye before he could say anything else embarrassing, but as he looked up to see his sister’s questioning eye, he wished he had endured the awkwardness of the call a bit longer.

“Who was that?”

“A friend.” Taekwoon’s mind supplied him with ‘bleacher buddy,’ and he dug his fingernails into his thigh at how absolutely horrible that sounded. “A helpful friend,” he amended. “Minyul, kids, gather round.”

By the time the next exhibit started, Minyul had laughed so hard he cried, and Taekwoon’s sister demanded he share the rules with her as well. He did so while the kids, led by a zoo instructor, played with guinea pigs. They looked through the pictures and videos Taekwoon took while the kids played, suppressing giggles as to not disturb the other exhibit guests while they sat with foreheads together. 

“Mommy, look!” Minyul called from inside the fence, and Taekwoon felt the heat from his side leave him immediately. 

Taekwoon replayed the video of the makeshift foil ball hitting Minyul right between the eyes as he tried to furiously clap and snap eight times, and saw his fingers in between the tears of his stifled laughter click the share button and type in Sanghyuk’s name. He didn’t add a caption, and quickly shoved his phone in his pocket not to lamely await a response. 

Turned out he wouldn’t have had to wait long anyway. He was staring down at the crying emojis and “he’s a natural” that Sanghyuk sent him in response when Taekwoon’s sister returned to their bench outside of the exhibit. 

“Tell your friend I said hi,” she said casually. 

Taekwoon instinctively put his phone away, although he knew his sister wouldn’t snatch it away like Hongbin had. “Why would I do that?”

“I was kidding, Taekwoon. I wouldn’t dream of having you interrupt whatever flirting has you smiling goofily down at your phone.”

Taekwoon conveyed as much grave seriousness in his glare as he could muster. “We are not flirting.” 

“Okay, Taekwoonie.”

“We’re not.”

“I said okay, didn’t I?” Taekwoon nodded and took a deep breath just as his sister added on a quick, “So who are you trying to convince?”

A second notification came, and Taekwoon did not hesitate to click. It was a picture of Woojin eating lunch, peanut butter smeared on his cheeks and regretfully in his hair. The caption repeated “he’s a natural.” 

Taekwoon bit his lip to keep from smiling, and wondered maybe if they were flirting. And if he cared. 

***

With two tee-ball games, an interview at an agency, and daily texts from Sanghyuk, the next month flew by. Taekwoon couldn’t ignore the weight of impending unemployment in his gut as each day brought him closer to graduation, but the videos and pictures he got from Sanghyuk helped to edge off the worst of his anxiety. That day after the petting zoo cemented their preferred form of communication: innocuous ten second clips and zoomed-in snapshots. 

He’d get a notification around mid-day for a blurry, pastel blob or three pixels of what he was convinced was an ear only for Sanghyuk to insist it was a lampshade. And he’d smile, and he’d turn back to his eighth agency application with a warmth in his chest that slowly but surely smothered the clawing uncertainty of his future. 

So when Sanghyuk suggested they hang out the weekend after the fourth game of the season (Taekwoon always gave the team a week off after games; Sunday practice was canceled), he felt a surge of nerves so intense a headache bloomed behind his eyes. 

He clicked away from his chat with Sanghyuk to text Hongbin instead. 

**To Lee Hongbin:** **  
** how do you know if hanging out is just hanging out or if it’s a date 

Taekwoon lowered his head down to the cool wood of his desk while he waited for a response. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:** **  
** how was it phrased?

**To Lee Hongbin:** **  
** “i won’t see you this weekend since there’s no practice. we could still hang out. mini golf or something?”

Having to navigate back to his texts with Sanghyuk to copy and paste the message caused his temples to throb. Hongbin’s answer didn’t help. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:** **  
** all you had to say was mini golf was involved. that’s a classic date place, taekwoon. and also the fact that he framed it as ‘let’s hang out because i want to see you.’ it’s 1000% a date. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:** **  
** wait. is this the same guy who was texting you at dinner? i thought you said you barely knew him 

**To Lee Hongbin:** **  
** yeah, well, that was like a month ago and we’ve been talking pretty consistently ever since. we’re friends. 

**To Jung Taekwoon:** **  
** just friends? so you’re going to turn down the date?

Taekwoon banged his head twice against the desk, aggravating his headache and his attempts at deep breathing.

**To Lee Hongbin:** **  
** i think im going to go 

**To Jung Taekwoon:** **  
** im proud of you, taekwoonie. have some fun. not too much fun. use protection. 

**To Lee Hongbin:** **  
** i hate you and im never speaking to you again 

**To Jung Taekwoon:** **  
** i love you too <3

He typed the quickest “I’d like that. When and where?” his fingers could manage, threw his phone across the room, and headed out for pain relievers and though he’d admit it to no one, a new outfit. 

***

They settled on Saturday in the evening. Any doubts Taekwoon had about Sanghyuk’s intentions in asking him out dissipated when Sanghyuk agreed to pick him up at 6pm. Friends didn’t go play mini golf at night. Friends didn’t pick each other up. This was a date. Taekwoon wore his tightest jeans and his fitted black jacket over an oversized striped shirt tucked into his jeans. This was a date, and he looked hot, and he his palms were sweaty because he couldn’t wait to see what Sanghyuk was wearing and how he’d smile at him, and what he’d look like relaxed behind the wheel of a car. 

When Taekwoon walked out to the grey sedan waiting in his apartment’s parking lot, he discovered that Sanghyuk looked less relaxed and more shocked behind the wheel of a car. 

“You look…” 

Taekwoon rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, stood with the passenger door open. He watched as Sanghyuk’s eyes roamed over his body from his parted bangs to his collarbones to his waist down to his shoes. 

“…way more put together than I do.” 

“Oh.”

From what Taekwoon could see, Sanghyuk wore black cotton pants and a simple grey t-shirt not unlike the color of his car. 

He was overdressed. Obviously, glaringly, without question—overdressed. 

“But, I mean, you look really nice,” Sanghyuk added as Taekwoon got into the car and buckled up. “I just realized I’ve never seen you in anything other than practice clothes. Maybe that’s why I dressed down.”

Taekwoon smiled despite his confidence in knowing that this was a date waning by the second. “Yeah, I don’t make a habit out of wearing basketball shorts on an everyday basis.”

“Meanwhile, I pretty much only force myself out of sweatpants when I go to the park for Woojin’s practice.”

Taekwoon stole a peek at him as Sanghyuk navigated out of the parking lot and onto the main road. He still looked kind and cute no matter what he wore. 

“Really? Why?”

“I spend most of my free time at the dance studio if I’m not at my dorm or in class. If I didn’t have a standing obligation with my mother to take Woojin to the field every week I’d probably never brush my hair or put on jeans.”

“You dance?” 

For all that Taekwoon knew about the color of Sanghyuk’s comforter—whenever he got a blurry yellow blob late at night he knew Sanghyuk was about to go to bed—and the sound of his roommate’s laugh as Jisung filmed Sanghyuk attempting a speed run on a video game Taekwoon knew nothing about, he didn’t actually know that much about his personal life. 

Sanghyuk explained in the drive over to the dessert-themed mini golf course that he de-stressed with a dance group when his classes made him want to drop out of school altogether—which was essentially daily. Taekwoon tried to imagine Sanghyuk, keysmashing and soundeffecting Sanghyuk, moving gracefully across a stage, but couldn’t. 

As if he knew exactly what Taekwoon was thinking, Sanghyuk invited him to come by the studio some time. 

He agreed, as he had no reason to decline, causing Sanghyk to flash him a grin before putting his car in park. 

“There are three different levels of difficulties,” Sanghyuk explained as they stood with their balls—Taekwoon’s red and Sanghyuk’s yellow—and matching putters. “I’ve only ever played the easy course with Woojin.” 

Oh. So he did go to mini golf with people he wasn’t on dates with. 

Taekwoon pushed that to a deep corner of his mind. “Hard.” 

“Hm?” 

“Let’s do it hard.” 

Sanghyuk’s eyes widened, and a lovely dusting of pink colored his cheeks. 

“I mean, let’s play the hard course.” 

“Right. Yeah.” Sanghyuk pushed his bangs out of his eyes and set off toward the back of the lot. “You’re a natural at sports, I’m guessing? Though, I’ve never actually seen you play baseball. Maybe you’re a con artist.” 

“How could you when your face is always in that game?” 

He hadn’t meant to sound quite so offended, but there it was. 

“Are you telling me for every level I’ve passed during practice you’ve been hitting home runs and lapping the kids around the bases?! Wahh,” he teased with a hand to Taekwoon’s shoulder, “I’m leaving my DS at home from now on.” 

“Shut up. Feel free to actually leave the DS, though, maybe I’d actually be able to concentrate for once.” 

“At the last game you spilled water down your shirt when I waved at you. Is the DS actually the problem?” 

Taekwoon sped three strides ahead and refused to answer. 

***

“Are you actually going to try a hole-in-one? You have to bank it off the oreo and get it in two, you have no chance.” 

They were tied at par going into the fourth hole. Sanghyuk was surprisingly good at calculating distances and angles and Taekwoon was good at following exactly what he did. For this hole, though, he was hitting first. 

“Watch me.” 

Taekwoon aimed for the flag sitting just to the right of a large slice of chocolate cake sat in the dead middle of the course. There was just enough room for his ball to fit snugly against the cake and stay straight enough to get in the hole. He just had to hit it hard. 

He pulled back his putter and flicked his wrists forward. Before he even had time to look up he heard Sanghyuk’s boisterous laughter. The ball hit speedily and disastrously against the cake and ricocheted off the course completely into some nearby fencing. 

Without thought or hesitation Taekwoon launched himself at a still-laughing Sanghyuk, punching him lightly in the arm. 

“This is your fault!” he whined. “You jinxed me!” 

Sanghyuk didn’t try to hide his giggles, but he did start pinching Taekwoon in this side. 

“This is not my fault, Jung Taekwoon. You were too confident.” 

Taekwoon doubled over thinking Sanghyuk would let up but instead Sanghyuk draped himself over Taekwoon’s back, quick puffs of air ghosting across his neck. 

“Ahem.” 

Suddenly, the weight bearing down on him lifted. Taekwoon stood with his bangs in his eyes and an unexpected chill down his spine. Sanghyuk’s arm bumped against his as he brushed his own bangs out of his face.

“Sorry,” Taekwoon mumbled to the family standing at the foot of the hole, and then a quick “let’s just call this hole a draw” to Sanghyuk. 

“Hey, no, I can get it quickly in two.”

“Sorry, again!” Taekwoon yelled over his shoulder as he led Sanghyuk by the hips toward the next hole. 

“You are the actual worst.”

Taekwoon curved his palms flush against Sanghyuk’s skin and squeezed. “Take that back.”

He turned, faster and closer than Taekwoon was expecting, so they were facing each other. The next hole was a foot away; Taekwoon could see the flag over Sanghyuk’s right ear. 

Sanghyuk narrowed his eyes. 

“What?” Taekwoon felt small beneath his gaze. “Fine, add two strokes to my final score—“

“No. Let’s raise the stakes.”

Taekwoon sucked in a breath.

“If I win, you buy me ice cream.”

He exhaled with a laugh that probably sounded like he was amused with Sanghyuk but felt more like he was annoyed with himself. 

“And if I win?”

“I’ll leave the DS at home at the next practice.”

Taekwoon pushed past Sanghyuk and focused all of his concentration on getting a hole-in-one.

***

They sat an hour later outside of the ice cream parlor next door to the mini golf course. Sanghyuk licked happily, smugly, at a cookies ‘n cream cone while Taekwoon pouted into his bowl of mint chocolate chip. 

“I think it’s safe to say you’re better at baseball.”

“Shut up,” Taekwoon whined. “Why are you freakishly good at putting? A video game nerd and a mini golf master? What kind of combination is that?”

Sanghyuk smiled sweetly into the setting sun. “My grandma used to take us a lot when we were kids. Well, Woojin’s still a kid.”

“You’re still a kid.”

“Hey.” He kicked Taekwoon under the table. “I’m not that much younger than you.”

“There’s almost Woojin’s entire existence in between us.”

“God, don’t put it like that.”

Taekwoon laughed behind his cup. “Is that the grandma you go visit?” Woojin had missed Sunday practice twice since that first time Taekwoon gave Sanghyuk his number. 

His grin faded, and Taekwoon wanted to take his words back out of the air between them, to make sure he’d never heard them at all. “Ah, yeah. She’s sick, and she lives alone, so our family takes turns going to visit her. We’re afraid if she’s by herself for too long…”

Taekwoon nodded in understanding.  “I’m sure seeing you helps. And Woojin, too.”

Sanghyuk blinked away the grief in his eyes. “Anyway, enough about me. How long have you been with your boyfriend?”

Taekwoon choked on his ice cream. “What?” he sputtered out. 

“The guy you were having dinner with that one night? And you sent me a picture one time when you were skyping with him?”

“Hongbin? Lee Hongbin? Gross, Sanghyuk.”

“I mean, he looked, like, not ugly.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m dating him! He’s my best friend. Have you assumed we were dating since that night at dinner?”

Sanghyuk talked into his cone. “Kinda, yeah.”

Taekwoon reached out and wrapped his fingers around Sanghyuk’s wrist. “You’re an idiot.”

Sanghyuk looked down at his arm. 

“Kinda, yeah. 

***

Taekwoon’d never seen Sanghyuk on a weekday, he realized, as he walked up the steps of what he was told was the dance studio on a Tuesday night. He’d received a simple and suspicious “come watch tonight?” a few hours earlier and spent each minute since fighting his racing pulse. 

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not, but Sanghyuk treated him differently after finding out he wasn’t dating Hongbin (Taekwoon called Hongbin as soon as he got home from mini golf and cried-laughed recalling the story. Hongbin was just as horrified as Taekwoon was). It wasn’t flirting, really. Maybe even the opposite. His pictures got impossibly cryptic—Taekwoon hadn’t guessed correctly in weeks—and he seemed to make an effort to be quieter during practice. Taekwoon almost wished the issue had never come up, and Sanghyuk still annoyed the shit out of him. At least that was familiar. 

He pushed open the heavy door of the studio, unconsciously holding his breath. 

When four sets of eyes turned to him, Taekwoon realized it was naive of him to think he could slip in without anyone noticing. 

“Legs,” was all he heard as a greeting. 

“Jaehwan, shut it,” Sanghyuk scolded a guy who immediately shot him two finger hearts in return. 

“What he meant to say was ‘Hi Taekwoon, nice to meet you.’” Sanghyuk grinned at him, rounding off the edges of his anxiety at meeting new people. _ Sanghyuk’s friends _ . “This is Jaehwan, a known fool and known only when I’m drunk as my best friend. I forced him to join the group even though he’s not really a dancer.”

“Hi, legs.” 

Taekwoon waved. There were worse things to be called. 

“And this is Wonsik. An actual dancer,” Sanghyuk introduced as he motioned toward the one with light gray sweats and a hoodie pulled up over his hat. 

“Is that my only title?” he asked, and Taekwoon was surprised at how deep his voice was. 

“He’s not my least favorite person in this room,” Sanghyk amended. 

The last person to speak, and by default the last favorite, scoffed and walked forward to shake Taekwoon’s hand. “I clearly can’t trust this squirt to do this right. I’m Hakyeon. I think we had composition together last year?”

Taekwoon thought he looked familiar. 

“Yeah, with Dr. Min. It’s good to see you again.” 

Hakyeon flashed a pretty smile. “You, too.”

“Okay, okay,” Sanghyuk blurted and was suddenly directly in front of Taekwoon where Hakyeon had just been. “Enough of the introductions.” 

The other three turned to the other side of the studio for what appeared to be a water break. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.” 

“You asked me to,” Taekwoon replied. 

Sanghyuk chuckled nervously. “That’s true. Take a seat off to the side, and we’ll show you what we’ve been working on.” 

Taekwoon didn’t know what he was expecting, but the mixture of styles in front of him wasn’t it. All four of them danced the same choreography—mostly hip hop with a contemporary break during the bridge—but in noticeably different ways. Hakyeon’s movements were effortless. He created lines that seemed like natural extensions of his body. Wonsik was sharper, with more edges and power. Jaehwan Taekwoon could tell was not a natural but he kept up, hitting every move on beat, and what he lacked in finesse he made up for in the way he sang along to the song—which Taekwoon had never heard before. He wondered if Jaehwan was a voice major, too. He was good. 

But it was Sanghyuk who stood out the most. Where Hakyeon’s movements were so smooth they almost disappeared in the rhythm of the entire group, Sanghyuk’s jutted out. Every stomp and spin broadened his body. He seemed opposite to the kid who curled in on himself, yelling at his game on the bleachers. Sanghyuk tonight was quiet, unbreaking of his concentration for even a moment. He tended to look down at the floor to execute each step, but a few times he looked up and directly at Taekwoon in the mirror. 

Taekwoon couldn’t have looked away if he tried. 

When the song ended, only the sounds of heavy breathy filled the studio. Taekwoon wanted to clap or to congratulate them or to fucking hug Sanghyuk or something, but he managed to only sit while his eyes following Sanghyuk pace around the studio in a cool-down. 

It was Jaehwan who finally asked him what he thought. “So?” he sing-songed. “Our hyukkie is cool, right?” 

Sanghyuk looked like he was about to protest the targeted question, but Taekwoon answered before he had a chance. “Yes. Yeah. Definitely.” 

The alarm on Sanghyuk’s face melted to sheepishness. “Thank you,” he whispered with an unnecessary bow. 

“Seriously, though, that was really good. How long have you all been dancing together as a group? You were impressively cohesive.” 

“Just since the beginning of the year,” Wonsik supplied. “Hakyeon and I have been dancing together since middle school, and Sanghyuk pretty much begged us to let him join our studio time. He said he even had a fourth guy so we could practice formations and transitions.” Wonsik gave Jaehwan a fond grin. “Lucky he was a quick learner.” 

Sanghyuk walked over and sat next to Taekwoon. “I did not beg, for the record.” 

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Hakyeon teased. “Your email said ‘if you deny me you’ll have me hating my first semester, this entire university, and my life on your conscience.’”

“Jesus, Sanghyuk,” Taekwoon said as he bumped their shoulders together. “Dramatic.” 

Sanghyuk shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

“How did he beg you into being his friend?” Wonsik asked. 

“Hey, I did no such—“

“He texted me with baited messages about baseball.” 

Taekwoon had a feeling Sanghyuk’s friends knew exactly how they met, but they laughed anyway. 

“Okay, enough shit talking, you three keep practicing, I’m going to take a break.” 

Taekwoon wasn’t sure why having Sanghyuk next to him was more distressing than watching him dance. 

“I really did like it,” he reiterated. 

Sanghyuk rested his head back against the cinderblock wall of the studio. He turned slightly. smiled, and Taekwoon once again felt like he wanted to hug him, to press that sweetness against his chest. 

“I’m glad.” 

“Why were you so desperate to join at the beginning of the year?” Taekwoon wondered out loud. 

Sanghyuk’s voice grew more serious. “I came in declared a business major—what my dad wanted for me—and I knew that if I didn’t give myself an outlet for something I actually liked I probably wouldn’t make it to graduation. School isn’t naturally that fun for me. And I don’t really care about business.” 

“Why not just be a dance major?” Taekwoon knew defying parents was easier said than done, but he figured he’d ask. 

“I actually like having dance as just a hobby. What if it became work and then something, really the only thing to make me happy started to make me feel like shit? Work is hard. I want dance to just  _ be _ .”

“You’re smart, Han Sanghyuk. I wish someone had told me that a few years ago.” Taekwoon lowered his head against his shoulder, unsure of his ability to tell this story looking Sanghyuk in the eye. “Music is the only thing I have. It’s not that I’m not good at anything else but it’s the only thing I’ve ever once thought about making a life out of.”

Taekwoon chuckled sadly. “I felt like it was destiny or something. Junior year an entertainment company scouted our department and picked five of us to meet with them. We were told we wouldn’t even have to finish college, that we’d have it made. But there was a catch.” 

“There’s always a catch.” 

Taekwoon hid his smile against Sanghyuk’s shirt. “Yeah. We had to compete in like a mini survival competition. They aired it on the company’s website, not a major tv station or anything, but sometimes a random person in a convenience store will recognize me.”

“Wait you did it?” 

“Yeah. I took the year off from school and trained with the company on camera. I was pretty confident in my voice, and my dancing didn’t totally suck. I thought I was going to get everything I’d ever wanted. But they eliminated me in the final week. Said I wasn’t fit to be an idol when I could barely talk to the camera or do fanservice.” 

Sanghyuk quietly listened as Taekwoon finished his story. He felt a comforting weight rest on the top of his head as Sanghyuk leaned against him. 

“So that’s why I’m still at school here. I have to make up the year I lost. And now I actually have to look for a job, but everytime I try it’s like I’m triggered back to the anxiety of being rejected and being told I’m not good enough. I can’t change my personality, I’m never going to be able to do that stuff. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not cut out for this industry.” 

“First of all.” Sanghyuk scooted back so he could look Taekwoon in the eye. “Every single person I’ve ever seen interact with you is enraptured.” 

“That’s not—“

“Seriously, Taekwoon, have you ever seen the parents at practice? They always show up ten minutes before practice ends to stare at your legs in your basketball shorts.”

Taekwoon slapped him on embarrassed instinct. Sanghyuk easily pinned his arm to his thigh. 

“It’s not even just how breathtaking you are, they hang on your every word. And I’ve seen you around those kids. You smile, you laugh, you make them love you. It’s not like you’re cold. Listen, it’s people who don’t show all their cards who everyone is always excited to get to know more.” 

“And did you want to know more? Before we had to talk about the practice schedule that first time?” 

This time it was Sanghyuk who buried his face in Taekwoon’s shoulder. “My mom never told me I had to stay at the field while Woojin practiced.”

“Wait. So you’re telling me I could have been saved from your loud ass yelling?”

Sanghyuk pinched the inside of his thigh. “Shut up. Seriously, though, just because that one agency didn’t want an idol who wasn’t a total fake of a happy-smiley-fingerheart person doesn’t mean you won’t make it. Plus that show sounds inhumane.” 

“Yeah, it kind of was.” Taekwoon took a deep breath and tried to ignore his heavy heart beat. He hadn’t said this out loud yet, not even to his sister or Hongbin. “But I think I’m going to try out for a musical next month. The casting call fits me pretty well.” 

“Taekwoon, that sounds amazing! Have you acted before?” 

“Well, that company pretty much fed us scripts of drama they’d created between the cast to add cliffhangers for each episode. I was so good at playing the stony-faced asshole they literally kicked me off the show for it.” 

“Wait. They eliminated you for a persona they themselves created?” 

“Yep.”

“Fucking assholes. When you get cast in this musical I’m coming every night and creating a fan site in your honor.” 

“You are not.” 

“It’ll be called ‘legs.’” 

“Sanghyuk, you are  _ not. _ ” 

Sanghyuk hopped up before Taekwoon could more seriously knock his fist against his head. He sent a wink over his shoulder before joining the next routine. 

Taekwoon rolled his eyes and pouted his best pout until Sanghyuk made eye contact with him as he body rolled and then all he could do was gulp. 

***

“I don’t want to know your name, where you’re from, what nickname your mom gave you, nothing. Just sing, you imbecile.” 

“Okay, take that down like eight notches, Jaehwan, you’re not the one trying out your acting skills,” Sanghyuk scolded.

“This is how you reverse the anxiety, though, make him endure the worst possible scenario and then he’ll be fine when the audition actually goes great.”

“I can attest,” Hongbin added, “that there’s no way that would work on Taekwoon. He would probably chokehold you and demand you take this seriously.” 

“He’s right,” they heard Taekwoon yell from his bedroom. 

“Let’s not drag this out too much. Wonsik, you in the chair, Hongbin, Sanghyuk and I on the couch, Jaehwan you on the floor.”

“Why me, I’m not the youngest,” Jaehwan protested under his breath, but no one answered, and he ultimately took his seat on the carpet. 

Taekwoon’s audition for his musical was only a week away. Although he was used to singing in front of his classmates and his professors, he wasn’t as used to performing for complete strangers. Hs friends— Sanghyuk’s friends were now his, too, with how much time he spent sitting along the wall of their studio—while familiar faces had never really heard him sing. Even Hongbin, his best friend for more than a decade, sweet enough to make a trip all the way out here just to help him with this, only heard him sing in the shower. 

“Jung Taekwoon, you’re next,” Hakyeon commanded in more serious of a tone than Taekwoon had ever heard him use before. He swallowed nervously, wiped the sweat from his hands, and walked out of his room. 

Taekwoon handed out his resume and headshot to the makeshift panel and announced his audition song. 

Instinctively, he shut his eyes as the first note sounded across the room. Sanghyuk’s advice—“musicals aren’t just about your voice, Taekwoon, you have to make the audience fall in love with you. look at them.”—reminded him to convey the emotion of the song not just with his voice. He’d meant to look around the room, to make eye contact with each and every member of the panel, but he found Sanghyuk first and the calm that settled over his chest wouldn’t let him look away. 

Taekwoon smiled around a line when the lyrics spoke of love, allowed himself to briefly snap his eyes closed when the lyrics turned sour, belted the final note with his chin lifted toward the back of the imaginary balcony.

He then took a deep breath down at the floor, steeling himself for feedback when he felt a pair of arms engulf him in a hug. Sanghyuk’s familiar woodsy cologne overwhelmed his senses, and Taekwoon happily tucked himself into his neck, wrapping his arms around Sanghyuk’s waist. 

“You’re incredible,” Sanghyuk whispered against his ear. “It doesn’t matter if you get this part or not, it doesn’t matter what they say to you, I’m telling you now, and I want you to know that it’s true. You’re incredible, and this is exactly what you’re meant to be doing.”

Taekwoon squeezed the fabric of Sanghyuk’s shirt inside of his fist and nodded silently, surprised with how easily he believed it could be true. 

“Well,” Hongbin said from behind them, and Taekwoon could tell without looking that he was smiling. “I think you’re ready. Why don’t we get dinner?”

So they did. 

***

It was two weeks before graduation when Taekwoon found out he got the part. He stood in his home office, alone, listening to the casting director list off dates for table reads and rehearsals and workshops, and he nodded profusely without realizing he couldn’t be heard and then spilled out a litany of yeses and thank yous. 

He video-called his sister first. She screamed loud enough for the both of them. When Minyul climbed into her lap to tell his Uncle Taekwoon how much he always loved his lullabies, Taekwoon cried tears of relief and love and pride. 

Hongbin was next. A simple “I fucking told you not to worry” sent him into a fit of laughter that left his tears forgotten. 

He went to the studio last. He must not have been able to keep the smile off of his face because as soon as the four sets of eyes found him they knocked him to the ground, piled on top of him, and sang congratulations until Taekwoon could barely breathe. Sanghyuk never let this side, not when the others went back to their practice, not when Taekwoon went home well past midnight. 

It wasn’t that night as Sanghyuk slept in his bed or on graduation night when it happened. It was a week after, just a few days before the first table read, and the night of the last tee-ball game of the season. 

Taekwoon’s team won a final victory, and although they weren’t headed to nonexistent playoffs or a championship, his players still group-hugged on the mound while Seungmin led a chorus of yelling. Taekwoon watched from the dugout, cheeks aching from a smile that refused to leave his face. 

He heard a distant “ba-ba-ba-BAAAA” and turned to see Sanghyuk in a familiar yellow hoodie walking toward him. 

The “we actually won” never found its way out of his mouth as Sanghyuk never stopped on his way to Taekwoon’s lips. 

They broke away only when ten pairs of gloves pounded into their waists. They looked over to see the sea of six-year olds, many of them now seven, scowling with disgust.  

Except for Woojin, who smiled. 

***

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> :"""")
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading.
> 
> I love reading your feedback, so please let me know how you liked it down in the comments <3
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/leemiknow) or [tumblr](http://wwww.indifferentyoongi.tumblr.com)!


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